end transmission

you were an exit i never took, an exit
i missed. your name on every road sign.
you with anchors instead of eyes,
sunken and sinking.
me chained up and down.
with the clouds burning up and the storm
gone and not enough rain to put out this fire.
my plane's being grounded, and i'm being ground up
and pressed for fuel. an engine with no pilot,
a storm with no thunder.
this call is the last i can make
before the plane takes off.
the ship is pulling up its anchor,
i'm digging up my roots.
my eyes are burning down,
the wheels are turning and the gear's
set to drive. an automatic transmission.
to be sent when i'm gone.
every sign has led up to this, every road
converged into this point like an asterisk.*
you the sky pinning me down,
trapping me like a star in a liquid suspension.
the sky black and burnt like it's been on the stove too long.
the sun humiliated, hiding its face in the planet's lap.
there's too much gravity in this situation;
the plane's going down.

*the last thing i'll ever do for you is die.